


How To Be A Decent Spirit (A Rise of the Guardians Highschool AU)

by Shadow_Light13



Category: Guardians of Childhood - William Joyce, Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Cussing, Deals, Drama, F/M, Family, Flirting, Friendship, Gen, High School, Humans, M/M, Multi, Romance, Slow Burn, Spirits, Teenagers, student, teacher
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-25
Updated: 2019-08-28
Packaged: 2020-09-26 09:40:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20387620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shadow_Light13/pseuds/Shadow_Light13
Summary: When Death arrives to find the Boogeyman defeated, the balance disturbed and seeing that the Guardians have unjustly gotten away with the trouble they had caused once more, she decides to take matters into her own hands. Sending both Pitch and the Guardians into an alternate universe bereft of magic where they would seek redemption for their pasts, she intends to have both sides punished in the way she deems most fit. Manny complies, though reluctantly and so the six spirits are forced to deal with the world in the form of an ordinary human, living a more or less ordinary life.But, nothing about spirits is ordinary, and this promises to be a very extraordinary year at Peregrine High indeed.This work mostly follows the Rise of the Guardians movie, and takes some inspiration and bits of information from Guardians of Childhood, but there will be many parts of the book series that will be ignored, as I have not read the entire series and do not view it as canon in relation to the movie itself.





	1. Done Deals

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first piece of fiction published here, so I have yet to get around all the different things, but I do hope that you will enjoy my contribution to the site. 
> 
> Whether you have constructive criticism, reactions, suggestions or compliments to offer, feel free to comment. 
> 
> Mind you, this piece of fiction will include strong language, drugs, as well as some darker themes, flirting, kissing and possibly even sexual themes in later chapters. For this reason, it is advised that readers are no less than thirteen, and if they are, to take the topics covered seriously, even if there will be lighthearted and humorous parts to this story. 
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own Rise of the Guardians, or any of the characters from that movie. They are the creations of William Joyce and DreamWorks. This piece of writing is for entertainment purposes only. I would advise you not to plagiarise this work all the same though, as there is effort put into this that I would rather not waste.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Death strikes a deal with a reluctant Man in the Moon. He knows he has to sacrifice his Guardians once more, and knows it is probably for the best.

Death was not happy. 

Not in the least.

Certainly not after she had entered Pitch's lair, only to find the boogeyman himself in a most pitiful state, bleeding, beaten and clearly broken judging by the rather apathetic expression on his face. If any light had been shone onto this situation, then it came in the form of the nightmares finally having leaving him alone, watching from the shadows but not daring to attack. In the presence of the spirit of death, their heads were lowered in submission. 

Tailing her now, was the man in the moon, who no longer looked quite as smug as he might have done upon hearing of the dark haired spirit's defeat. He kept his distance, rightfully so. An unbearable silence hung in the air - unbearable, that was, only for the males in the room - thick and palpable, as she made her way up to the limp form of Pitch Black. 

Glancing over him, she turned to face the silver haired, round man behind her. Displeasure was evident on her despite the fact that the hood of her cloak obscured part of her pale face. "Never have I seen a show of such petty behaviour," she exclaimed, her voice threateningly light, brushing past his ears as softly as a breeze, but nipping at his skin, forcing goosebumps to surface. There was a certain amount of intimidation behind that calm tone. A bite, a promise of violence should Manny attempt to talk back to her now. So instead, he kept his mouth shut. 

Smart man. 

"Your puppets call themselves _guardians_," the female continued, as she reached her hand out to the fallen spirit. Pitch instead pulled himself more firmly against the stone wall behind him, refusing her advances and her aid. Anger and distrust shone bright in his golden-silver eyes. "Yet... the only things they really protect are their own pathetic backsides..."

She pulled her arm back. No point attempting to out-stubborn the guy. 

From behind her, Manny notably winced at the insult, opening his mouth to say something. "Their influence has only increased the level of violence people - and especially children - are willing to use on others, and their ways are old-fashioned, out-dated, hypocritical and cruel," she went on, now circling him, her gaze, sharp and cold, constantly focused on him, forcing him to shrink. "They are no better than any dark spirit I have ever met." 

"I don't think-"

As death silenced the shorter man with a glower that could freeze over hell, Pitch tensed, observing the conversation from his corner with sudden interest. Never had he assumed anyone would pick up on the behaviour of the Guardians. Let alone Death, whom always seemed to side with them, judging by the lack of mercy she generally allowed him. Not even the sweet release from life had ever been granted to him. 

"I am aware that you do not think Kozmotis was undeserving of his treatment," she cut him off. 

Pitch shifted a little, in spite of the pain the movement would undoubtedly cause, not liking the sound of his former name. His past was in his past, dead and buried, as it ought to have been. 

"He will not be let off so easily," the woman assured Manny, almost causing Pitch to scowl. 

'So easily? How the hell is beating me to a bloody pulp 'letting me off easily'?!' Her words had made him want to scream and shout. No prisoner, no criminal was ever treated this way without judgement in the human world. Why he would have deserved to be treated worse than a human prisoner was something that was beyond him, considering that he never even killed Sanderson - nor had he intended to, he just wanted the irritating, sadistic sack of sand out of his way - nor was he intending to kill the Burgess kids, as the sand would have had little effect on him, which was something he was aware of for some time. At most it would give them a small panic attack, what with the dose of nightmare sand being rather large, but without the kids having any history of anxiety. Instead, they managed to get away without even that panic attack and the sandman had come back without so much as a scratch, all his memories intact and his powers restored to their full potential, with the bastard being able to control them as if he had never been shot with a nightmare arrow in the first place. 

"If you want to get your justice, without me taking the lives of your Guardians in return for all the lines they have crossed and the numerous crimes that you are not even willing to divulge with the rest of the spirit world, then I suggest you accept my proposal," Death lowered her voice, snapping both men out of their thoughts as their attentions switched to her. 

The Lunanoff heir swallowed audibly, sweat gathering. It would have been amusing to Pitch, had he himself not been in a worse position at that very moment. He could tell that killing off the man's pawns did not sit well with his opponent. He was also aware though, that he would too have to pay for the injustices against the Guardians. There was not exactly a short list of those either, he was forced to admit to himself. 

"Consider it a mercy, given how little punishment they will suffer through despite everything they have done." Death stepped back from Manny, but her speech was far from over. She took something out of one of the pockets in the long black cloak that she wore, revealing a small orb, not very different from one of North's snow globes. Instead, it was filled with mist however, glowing silver mist. She whispered something to it in another language, before handing it over to the short man, whom hesitantly took it. There was little other choice he had, considering he was stuck standing just a few meters from a spirit that could allegedly kill him with a single snap of her fingers. "This will open a portal to another world, another universe. Everything inside that universe has already been set up, and I do have an inside person that will help both your Guardians and the spirit of Fear fit in to the world. I will not need this little trinket, so feel free to keep it, but you will not bring your precious spirits back until I give you permission to. Until they have fulfilled the conditions of their release, there will have to be other spirits to fill in for them.

Before they enter this universe, they will all take up a different form - a visible and human one, possibly younger, depending on the role they will take in this world. Feel free to choose whether they become a student or a teacher, but they will all have to deal with human high school. They will have a month to prepare, to learn anything they might need to know and to get used to being a human, because they will not have their special abilities and traits to enable them shortcuts. In high school, they will have a year to learn how to be a decent person. Should they fail, they will get transferred to another school and will have to start all over again, until they succeed."

Again, the silence resumed as Manny thought her offer over, eventually muttering a very reluctant "of course," when he decided this was the best way to deal with things. 

"You will allow them no cheats, no powers and no assistance, just like you had not given Frost any for three hundred years. Should be a piece of cake for you." A humourless smirk crossed her face, before a cloud of mist gathered around her, only to fade away once she was gone, leaving the two male spirits there. 

A huff of indignation left Manfred Lunanoff's lips. "What does she know of that," he hissed, his voice punctuated with a faint Russian accent. 

No answer was given and none would be given, certainly not from the taller spirit who glared daggers at the spot where Death had stood just moments ago, clearly not any happier with the arrangement. 

The left over nightmares around them snorted, as if amused by the scene. Within the time that the female spirit had been speaking, many of them had stalked off, probably in search of more food. They no longer could find enough fear within Pitch to satisfy their cravings and the ungrateful beasts were rarely the listening types. They would probably not miss the boogeyman either, regardless of how long he would be gone for. Not exactly a tragedy, mind you, but the idea of being stripped off powers again, especially when he was only just recovering them...

Pissed him off. 

He heard a sigh coming from the man in the moon, as he took out a sleigh bell from the breast pocket of the vest he was currently wearing, giving the bell a ring. So he had changed his method of calling up Guardians. Useless information, but it was more interesting than focusing on the hellish affliction coursing through his body and the metallic tasting blood pouring from his wounds. Looking over, he observed in silence as the big five finally arrived. 

North stepping out first, excited to see Manny as if he were a kid that had waited for his father to return from work, before spotting Pitch. The expression on his face then confirmed that the feelings Pitch had for the Cossack were mutual. 

"Why are you with Pitch?" he asked, in shock. "Did he harm you?" 

As Manny shook his head, the rest of the Guardians knew they were probably in for quite an explanation of the situation. 

* * *

"She what?!" Bunny exclaimed in indignation, clenching his paws into fists, looking as though he might punch someone. Then again, the six-foot-one tall rabbit always seemed to look that way. "She can't just-"

"I am afraid she can, Aster," Manfred shook his head. 

"So... did she like threaten you with the touch of death or something...?" Jack guessed - rather new to this whole thing - as he leaned against his wooden staff. The man-child was still very much fond of the wooden item despite it turning out to be quite useless overall when he could simply use his own hands. A confused expression crossed his boyish features and an air of nonchalance seemed to surround him. Considering that he was standing face to face with his boss and one of the last remaining Tsars of anything in the whole universe, he was pretty chill. 

"No. She threatened you with the touch of death," was the response, causing Jack's stomach to drop. 

He had only just gotten what he had always yearned for! A family, friends, believers... And now it was being taken away!? Gripping his staff more firmly and threatening to snap it in half himself - he could repair it after all, so it was really no big deal - he could not help but feel outraged. "What gives her the right?!" 

"The universe. Her centre. Her abilities. Take your pick," Bunny answered instead, though he seemed no more pleased than Jack despite having calmed down a little. "I just don't get why Pitch would be let off with a punishment as light as ours. Almost like she wasn't fucking there when..." he trailed off, looking down at the ground and gritting his teeth to prevent the whole story of his past from unravelling. 

It would have become far more awkward right about now, had the Tooth Fairy not decided to get involved in the conversation. "Do... we get to choose whether we are students or teachers?" she changed the conversation topic, noticing how uncomfortable the Pooka was getting. It was not a wise idea to pry. 

The attention switched to Toothiana. It was a good point... but he doubted Death would be happy if he let them choose the roles they wanted. Instead, picking it out himself without their input might be the better idea. So instead, Manfred shook his head. "That is my job," he informed them, before looking all six spirits over. It was best to choose the roles based on age, of course, as most of them could not freely transform without the use of potions. Unless those potions contained a sample of someone else's DNA, there was no certainty they would help alter their appearance beyond a few minor changes. Turning them human was hard enough, but thankfully, he might be able to beg Cupid for a couple vials of potions. Hopefully she will have the right kinds. 

"It would be best if most of you - asides from Jack - took the post of teachers. I will give you all the necessary materials, if they are not provided by your supervisor, detailing the requirements for your role and the school curriculum, along with information on the specific subject that you will be teaching," he informed them, which most accepted with ease. 

Jack, of course, protested. As did Pitch, only he was a lot less vocal about it, and was opposed to the whole idea of being surrounded by hormonal brats at all. "Oh, come on! Why do they get to do all the drinking, driving, teaching and all that jazz and I don't?" he whined, only to get elbowed by Bunny. 

"Unless you want to make it worse for all of us, just accept it," Bunny told him under his breath. It was not as though Jack would be the only one suffering the consequences of the shady bastard's - Pitch's - actions. 

Sandy did not respond at all, focused on the spirit in the corner of the ruins they were still standing in, golden sand circling his hand. There was a temptation to vent, to take out his anger and irritation that came with all the past misfortunes he and the other Guardians have been through on the dark spirit. Instead, he was forced to keep his powers to himself, risking death otherwise. Given the unfinished business he had with Pitch, the spirit of fear doubted that he would be asking for death any time soon. So he kept his golden-silver eyes pinned on the burning, amber-gold eyes of the Sandman as an agreement was reached behind their backs. 

In the next while, he found himself being forced to look away though, as he was pulled up - causing one of his ribs to dig deeper into his body and an immobilising pain to erupt in his left leg despite all the immunity towards pain that he always seemed to have whenever he fought the Guardians - against his will and pushed up to North, who held him down even as Pitch struggled. 

As he fought, he barely could focus on the sounds surrounding him, as a mention of "transform" brushed past his ear, said in a voice that probably sounded like the Tsar's. When he refused, he found a vial of something familiarly and sickening sweet being shoved down his throat. He choked on it, coughing, sputtering and attempting to vomit it up, as he found himself dizzy and uncomfortably warm. Well aware that this was meant to subdue him in order for him to transform without struggle - an ability that few spirits possessed and even he never knew how to effectively use against the Guardians - into a more mortal being. Panic seized him, as the memories flooded back, forcing their way through the many barriers Pitch had put up in vain to prevent this from happening. 

Jack watched and winced, eventually looking away when the protests and struggles really began, before disappearing off to explore the lair. He would be back later, to find Pitch suspiciously and unnervingly compliant with a very odd expression on his face, but transformed nevertheless. 

The boy gawked, seeing a completely new person in place. Well, several new people in place of the original beings, with the Guardians having already being pushed into other forms using the potions that Manfred had undoubtedly obtained from the spirit of Love. It was his turn, he supposed, but he was frozen in place as he took in the differences amongst the spirits - Toothiana without her feathers, and with sun-kissed, more Asian skin that practically glowed, covering herself up shyly; Bunny also sitting down and trying to hide whatever of his nakedness he could, which was not a behaviour he expected from the cocky Pooka, looking like a cliche Australian with his tanned, flawless skin, dimmed down green eyes and sandy hair, still tall though and clearly muscular; North, who happened to have russet hair now, that was nowhere near as long and a beard of a slightly darker colour, that was much shorter too, who seemed to suit his tattoos much more than he did before, and had a pair of brown eyes instead of blue; Sandy, who too had brown eyes and a short stature, but nowhere near as short as before, with his hair less wild, and though messy, much shorter and more naturally coloured, for whom his robe was now clearly a bit constricting with its shortness...

And Pitch. 

Who looked - and this was the most shocking part of the transformation - human. Well, that and intoxicated. Like someone had shoved a whole bottle of rum down his throat all at once, because that relaxed (as well as something else he could not put a finger on) look was just not something typical of Pitch. Or maybe Manfred had happened upon the secret stash of devil's lettuce that may or may not have been hidden in one of Jack's many residences for... recreational purposes. And to stop him form losing his shit in situations like these. 

"Woah..."

"It is your turn," Manfred informed him, handing over a potion to him. "Do not worry, it will not affect you in the same way as it did Pitch," he assured him. 

Hesitantly, Jack took it. Not that he minded getting stoned, but who knows what it would do to his features. What if he turned into an awkward, acne-covered kid with a voice-break, crooked teeth and red hair? Relief came to him, when he felt nothing strange as he drank the potion, before handing the empty vial over to Manny. A slight wave of nausea hit him later though, along with a quick black out that thankfully had not lasted long enough for him to fall back and hit the ground, risking a concussion. When he opened his eyes and took in his surroundings, he was glad to note that he was still surrounded by the same people. 

"So... how do I look?" he asked, his voice betraying a little nervousness as he begged Aster for an answer. 

Bunny, being as supportive as ever, simply rolled his eyes. "You look fine, Frostbite, now get your ass over here so we can get this whole thing over and done with." 

Toothiana gave him an encourage smile, despite her awkward predicament, which led to North handing Bunny his coat and Toothiana the red sweater he had beneath it to cover the two nude spirits up a little. Blushing, Toothiana thanked him and then looked back over to Manfred, who had already opened up a portal for them, using the orb that Death had given him earlier. 

"I need to warn you. You will not be able to use your abilities in these forms," he said as he gestured for them to enter the portal. "But I do not think that Death has banned you from using your human strengths to defend yourself." 

As all the spirits nodded, he stopped Pitch, telling him to walk over to him as he pulled him aside. Jack was initially surprised at how easily the taller spirit complied, but he brushed it off as nothing but the side-effects of whatever potion he was given to be less troublesome, before walking through the portal first. The nausea hit again, but it was fainter now, and instead of darkness he was met with mist. On the other side of the mist, lay a whole other world, that much he did know. 

What he didn't know was the challenges that would await him as a student at Peregrine Academy. A middleschool-highschool complex in an alternate world without magic, without spells, where he would probably be forced to deal with Pitch day in and day out. But, hey, how hard could it be to become a decent human being? 

He could hear the others as they followed, appearing in the front garden of a fairly modern looking house standing at the edge of a Cul-de-sac called Falcon avenue. It seemed someone was already awaiting them, for a woman in her fifties stood on the doorstep of the house, her arms folded, but a friendly smile on her face. "You five must be the kids I was supposed to supervise," she commented, looking them over. "Could have sworn there were six of you, though. Still, it's a pleasure to meet you. Feel free to call me May." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pitch does not need the shifting potion because he can shape-shift. It is not very effective against a larger number of opponents anyway, hence why he chose an army of nightmares over one form that does not have full access to the whole range of his powers. His powers over time have become tied to the form he uses most - that is the one the audience sees. 
> 
> There are comics out there that are accepted by some as canon or a head canon of it's own in the least, that explain that Pitch chose the form he took - a more human and less beastly form than some spirits - possibly subconsciously. 
> 
> He needed to be convinced to shift though, as only he can get his own body to shift. Without Pitch's compliance, the best way to sort the problem out was a mind-altering drug that would temporarily brainwash him into thinking he wants to wish. However, that was not the only way to go about the issue.


	2. Roommates

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Guardians arrive at the new house, slowly getting settled in. 
> 
> School has not yet started, but already, there are mixed opinions about Death's idea of punishment. 
> 
> Pitch is not exactly happy either, but it looks like he might just have to suck it up. 
> 
> Cussing is inevitable, as some opinions are better expressed than held in only for the character to explode later.

It surprised Jack that May - or Aunt May as he decided to name her inside his head, the inner fanboy surfacing - did not seem too bothered by Aster's or Toothiana's partial nudity. He assumed she would be less calm about the whole situation, considering she was about to the entirety of the town she lived in and lying was no easy thing to do. Take it from the guy who is perpetually seventeen. 

Leading them inside, the woman left the door open behind her, probably to allow Pitch to enter the house after whatever business he had with the Man in the Moon - and Jack hoped it at least involved a slap across the face for the shit he pulled during Easter - was over. The house looked cosy and thankfully big enough to prevent the spirits from going after each others necks in the month that they would be spending here together. A spacious building looked more like a precaution against an angry anthropomorphic rabbit killing a demonic ghoul than anything else though. The cosy side to it was mostly the soft carpets that stretched out through the living room, corridor and stairwell, leading to the various guest rooms that they would likely be staying in, the bathrooms, kitchen, dining room and a few others. 

He was pleasantly surprised that the place he would be staying it looked nothing like a prison, with it's royal blue carpets, pictures of animals and paints of landscapes hanging off the wall and even a small collection of teeth on top of a bookcase that stood not so far from the staircase, decorating the area. Safe to say Tooth soon forgot her predicament as she spotted the fossilised collection of canines, ogling it with obvious interest. The teenager chuckled lightly, his now chocolate brown eyes sparkling with amusement. Hearing him laugh, the former fairy spun round to face him, her face flushed a deep, scarlet red, her violet eyes downcast in shame. 

"I'm glad you like this house," a familiar voice commented from behind them, and they switched their attentions back to May, who led them upstairs to where the guest bedrooms were located. 

"I apologise," she exclaimed as she introduced them to the three guest bedrooms she had prepared, looking comfortable and a rather large size for some place they were supposed to reside in as a punishment, "but I haven't had the time to prepare and there is only two other rooms in the attic, neither of which are very suitable and they both need refurbishing. Which means you will have to share the rooms between yourselves..."

"I'm fine with that," Jack nodded, peeking his head into one of the rooms, before deciding to lunge for the nearest bed, hogging it for himself. "And I bugsy this room!" he added, before flopping back down onto the bed, spreading his arms out. 

May and Tooth chuckled at his behaviour, with Bunny only rolling his eyes. 

"Mind you there's no way I'll be taking that other bed," the rabbit exclaimed, before walking off to take another room. He stopped as he was about to enter the pleasantly smelling room, sniffing at it, before he noticed the flowers. Turning around, it was as if the flowers on the windowsill had somehow reminded him of his manners as he managed a "thanks". 

"Don't worry about it," the human woman shrugged, before turning to face the others. "You can all choose which rooms you'll be staying in for the year and then come downstairs. Mara has sent you all some things you might require, so you'd best take them before the summer holidays are over." 

With that, she turned away and headed downstairs, leaving the spirits to their own devices. That was probably the first time since they had each become Guardians when they really were allowed to take initiative and do as they pleased, truth be told. Back in their own world, none of them really could make their own choice without running each and every idea through Manny, and even then, it was mostly him who gave the orders. So the little bit of freedom they had now was something they immediately took advantage of. 

North had decided to share a room with Sandy, who had initially insisted on sharing a room with Pitch to spare everyone else the pain of dealing with the Grinch himself, but after some persuasion, the short blond gave in with a long drawn out sigh. There was even a hint of frustration or disappointment, but by that time the other Guardians had left to explore their own rooms. 

As Toothiana had for the potted Jasmine flowers in Bunny's room, she had opted to take up the bed by the windowsill. Bunny had accepted this, for some reason preferring to lie by the side without a window anyway. Frowning as she contemplated why that might have been, the female eventually decided he just did not want to sleep at the colder side of the room. 

A little bit of childish joy formed a smile on her face as she later walked over to the wardrobe that was a few feet from her bed, realising there were clothes hanging from it. "Hey, Bunny!" she exclaimed, gesturing for him with one hand to come up to her. Reluctantly the male walked over to her, as if worried it might be booby-trapped. Still, as she encouraged him to look inside, he was relieved that what was inside merely consisted of clothes, although suspiciously fitting clothes. As if May had suspected he would have chosen this room. 

"Fucking weird..." he muttered under his breath, shuddering a little under North's coat, but he was, in the end, all too glad to dispose of the Cossack's coat in place of a button up shirt and some khaki shorts. 

Looking over to Toothiana who had in the short time managed to dress herself too - possibly out of a sudden surge of modesty - he appreciatively noted that she was wearing a loose fitted, knee-high, round-collared dress that nicely emphasised her curves before cursing himself inwardly and realising that this deal might result in a very long year together. The spirit of memories somehow managed to be blind to his change in emotions (something he was very grateful for at the moment), as she tilted her head to the side innocently. 

"Are you okay, Bunny?" she inquired, sounding concerned. 

'Dammit, sheila...' he huffed inwardly, before nodding and simply looking away without another word. 

* * *

Pitch had arrived later, now sober and back to his old, miserable self. Perhaps even more miserable than before as he simply pushed past the entrance to the house, having a vague idea of what he was supposed to do and where he was supposed to go from previous experiences with being "human". Closing the door behind him more hastily than he ought to, resulting in him making his arrival rather clearly known, he walked up the stairs without a word, his footsteps soundless. 

You did not need to be psychic to know that he hated this arrangement. Unlike the others, though, the house did nothing to change his mind. Not the bookshelves filled to the brim with all sorts of interesting texts that would generally prompt some curiosity out of him, not the piano in the music room, nor the paintings of landscapes and photographs of animals hanging off the walls rimmed with elegant frames. This homely environment did nothing for a man that convinced the whole world and even his own life was one big lie. 

His eyes, which had remained golden-silver, albeit now being more brighter and lighter, _cleaner _in a way, scanned his surroundings and he entered the first room that did not seem to be taken. Of course, he only had the time to look to the bed by the window, not the second one, which had already been hogged by a familiar winter menace. 

Stepping into the room, he walked right up to the wardrobe, noting with a sigh that May might have even suspected which room he would have picked and grabbed some clothes that fit his still skeletal frame, before heading over to the bathroom that was connected with this room. Each guest room had one, which was a surprising luxury he did not dwell on or ponder about as he shut himself inside there, locking the door. He didn't have the time to think about his fortunes, or the mindset. Instead he felt so tempted to slump against the door and fall to the ground, curling up into a pathetic ball and wallowing in self-pity, only to sneer at his own weakness. First he needed to wash though. Wash off every bit of shame he'd gathered since his latest defeat and forget all about the events that had led to now. The way he always did until anger was the only thing left inside of him and that was what fed his determination, what made him persist and pull himself back on his feet time and time again, refusing to be a mere puppet, a forgotten spirit. 

Only to be forgotten in the end...

'Enough of that!' his own mind forced those other thoughts away. 'If we let this get to us, then they will win. We will be the weaklings and they will forever have all the belief, all the respect, everything we could have had all to themselves... Do you want that?!' 

The simple answer: no. 

So he forced himself to focus on washing, then dressing, then stepping outside the bathroom only to groan in frustration as he spotted Frost lounging on his bed, one of his legs kicked up. 

"What's up, roomie?" a cocky greeting left the younger spirit's lips as he looked Pitch over. 

"Ceiling," the raven haired male deadpanned, before walking over to the bed that he had intended to take up and trying to - without success - push away the irritating boy. Jack only snickered at the man's response and pushed back against him. 

"Nice makeover, by the way. You're looking less like an Edward Cullen wannabe already." He smirked, watching the spirit grit his teeth. Well, there's another way to get under the boogeyman's skin. It looked as though he might have a little fun living with Pitch after all. "But when I say, what's up, I mean how are you, or what have you been up to, Shady. Try to get with the times."

Pitch scowled, giving Jack a hard shove, only to be met by a strong kick from Jack himself, which did not help with the healing process of one beaten up spirit of fear. He bit back a yowl of pain, before limping away with a metaphorical tail between his legs. 

Jack smirked as he watched his new roommate leave, already intrigued by the possibility of getting on this man's nerves some more. Especially now that he was more human, less of the shadow-wielding ghoul with grey skin, no eyebrows and crooked teeth, and more of the white-tooth, pale skinned, younger guy who looked to be somewhere in his early to mid twenties, with thin but existent eyebrows, hair that was all black and did not stand up quite as much as it did, and actual eye-lashes as well as a narrow, less beat-up looking nose. Sure, he still looked like Jack Skellington's love-child with his lanky frame - 'heh, love-child' - but he looked far more approachable and more human. 

Now, if only he could act like it too... 

A small part of Jack rather liked the idea of being able to approach him without the threat of getting throttled by the spirit of Fear. 

* * *

Sanderson really would have rather to keep an eye on Pitch. Besides, it would have given him the time to have a little chat with the bastard that had shot him down in front of all his allies. There was one thing to be temporarily knocked out and pushed aside, but it was a whole other thing to be completely humiliated. 

He had tried to conjure up his sand, to at least have some way to vent his frustrations, but had come to realise that his powers were no longer available to him as a human. 

North had noticed this and had assured the male that he would be fine without his powers, that the Cossack knew he was strong even without all those brilliant powers and the ability to create just about anything with the material that he could make in his own hands... 

But it did nothing to quench his thirst for revenge. 

May's call from downstairs did however temporarily put any ideas of revenge on hold, as the two men made their way out of the bedroom and down to the living room where the woman sat, awaiting the other spirits with documents and instructions splayed out across the coffee table that stood in the middle of the room, in neat stacks. 

There was a label in front of each stack clearly showing which pile of paper was whose. 

"You will all need these," she informed them, "and Mara instructed me to tell you to read all of them very carefully, since you will have to probably change your identity quite a bit to settle in the real world." 

Sanderson picked up his own stack, on top of which was an envelope with a note inside it. It took no time to open the envelope and read the message, he supposed was from Mara, the spirit of Death herself. Granted, he had never known she had been called Mara, but who else could it have been considering she made up this whole thing mostly on her own? He scowled, when he realised she knew. 

_In this world, Sanderson, you can speak. In fact, you could have spoken in your own world too, you just prefer to keep those cruel thoughts of yours to yourself and only you. I know should you have spoken out loud in the past, nothing good would have come out of it. _

_But in this world, there is no other way but to speak. You will simply have to learn to say the right things, to the right people, rather than the other way around, _

_Mara. _

A flash of anger popped up in his eyes and then disappeared as he put the letter back inside the envelope, picking up the rest of the stack and taking it upstairs, leaving Mara undoubtedly confused and perhaps even a little unsettled. 

How much anger can one little man hold inside of him?

* * *

The rest of the Guardians had come downstairs later, taking all documents and any letters from the spirit of Death herself up to their room. Jack had come with a more pleasant attitude, commenting "since when am I not on my best behaviour?" having read his own letter and wiggling his eyebrows, feigning nonchalance. He gathered that it was probably a good tip though, but he also completely dismissed it five seconds after having read it, before heading back upstairs, leaving May laughing lightly. 

Scanning over the documents, he seemed to accept the idea of going by the similar identity of Jackson Frost, a boy whose parents and sister died in a car accident three years ago and since then he had been moving around the states quite a bit, living with various foster families until he came to live with his cousin - Pitch, surprisingly enough - and his friends. Or well, housemates. He was also fine with being a brunette again, since he still retained much of his "good looks" as he put it, having looked in the mirror to make sure he did not turn into an awkward kid during his transformation. 

* * *

North chuckled at his own letter, probably not thinking of it much, before heading back. He'd been told to "open his eyes to the world, for there is much you (he) don't see", which seemed like a good tip, only he had no idea what Mara might have meant by it. 

Going by the name Nickolas North, a man in his late forties who was to be the new Craft-Design-Technology (CDT) teacher at Peregrine Academy, it was not a massive change. Granted, he knew he would have to read over the curriculum and whatever written work was expected of the students whilst he spent his summer off work, something which he did not like, the idea of working with kids was actually none too bad. Besides, he was Russian according to his documents and had worked at one point as a sculptor in Moscow, which seemed believable and a past he could take up without much thought or need to lie.

Apparently, in his past he had lost a wife called Maria North, which only struck too close to the heart though, and it forced him to put away his documents for the evening. A frown ghosted his features. 

When he hid away the papers inside his drawers, he could see Sanderson watching him with curiosity, wondering what had bothered the Russian man so much. 

"Oh, it's nothing... just... lot to take in, you know?" As much as it didn't convince the short man much, he was forced to not and let it go. No point starting an argument here. 

* * *

Bunnymund probably had one of the biggest changes to his past. Having not really been Australian, as he only favoured the country because the weather was a bit more bearable there than Britain - which was bloody freezing all-year-round in his mind - and America, and the other countries all spoke in languages he could only barely comprehend most of the time, he was not surprised when his envelope contained a few pamphlets on Australia to help make his past more believable. 

Of course, he would probably be best off to do some extra research on the country someday later, just in case he ever got asked. 

Apparently he was born in Australia, coming to America with a visa as he wanted to travel and work abroad as a teenager. He wound up studying to become a Physical Education teacher and a sports coach for various forms of self-defence as well as Rugby (which he honestly had no idea how to play). Now, at age 28 he decided to change work locations because of an accident involving black ice in the previous state he had lived in resulting in the death of his family and his friends. He had chosen to live with an old university mate, Kit, as it made paying for bills easier and since the loneliness with killing him. 

He scowled, hating Mara at this point as he could have sworn she had included the part with his family and friends dying just because she knew it would have hit a sensitive spot. What he wouldn't bet claiming Pitch was this supposed friend from university...

Looking up from the papers in his hands, he noted that Toothiana was staring at him once more, with that same look of concern. 

"I'm fine," he muttered, "you should mind your own business, sheila." 

The new E. Aster Burton, or Aster as he would be known by his friends, very much like kicking a particular spirit of Death, regardless of whether she was a man or woman. 

"Alright." Toothiana didn't press. "But if you ever want to talk..." 

Then she turned away, presumably to check over her own documents. 

"What?! How on Earth does she think anyone's going to fall for the idea of me and Pitch being 'old school mates'?!" she exclaimed, the outrage on her face, making a corner of Aster's lips quirk upwards. 

So he was not the only one who would have to deal with that terrible lie. 

* * *

Toothiana gawked at the paper. As if it weren't bad enough that Mara had the habit of sending cryptic and confusing letters to people, such as:

_I would learn to hold back your punches. There is no strength behind hitting a falling man. Take care to understand a world beyond teeth and gums, maybe you will learn to understand the people that grow them._

"I'll give her _old school mates_." She huffed.

She was to be Tiana Anand, a Biology teacher who was born in India and at three years of age her family moved to America as they believed she would have a better education here. She too, was apparently once a person who went to the same university as Pitch, studying biology and anthropology before gaining a teacher's degree, becoming a teacher and moving here to teach at the age of 25. 

In itself, that would have been fine, but it was all too obvious who this "Kit" person was, considering all the other people that were on her list of people that went to the same university as herself happened to have familiar names. Besides, Kit sounded like a rightfully posh name for a narcissistic, fairy-stealing git. 

Sighing, she put away the documents, deciding that she was probably best off studying the school curriculum, since it was obvious that Bunny did not want to speak about his current state and she did not want to read any more of her supposed past. 

* * *

Needless to say, Sandy was not pleased to know that his past had been intertwined with Pitch either. It was a wonder he had not thrown a fit there and then when he discovered he supposedly went to the same university as him at one point, even if it was for a different education. 

Sandy, it turned out, was to be the second History and Modern Studies teacher in the school - a temporary fix, as the original one had gone for a year of maternity leave - having studied History and Sociology, then later Politics in University and gaining a social sciences teacher degree later on. Now at 38 - which he had to scoff at, but at the same time, he really did look roughly that age, if perhaps a few years younger - he was transferred to Peregrine Academy to teach as a temporary, since budget cuts had to be made in his last school. 

His name had chanced slightly to Sanderson Monsoon, which did not sound all that much more believable, but he doubted that the name Monsnoozie would be doing him any favours amongst a bunch of cheeky teenagers. 

The worst thing though, about this whole deal, was that he would have to speak. It was hardly as if he was anxious to speak, no. In fact, he quite liked talking and if you would have ever heard him speak, you would have known he was the type of person who most certainly did not mind the sound of his own voice in the way many of us do. However, it was a matter of self-control to be able to remain silent no matter how much a person wanted to scream and shout at the opposition. Sometimes, remaining calm was how he gained the upper hand. 

Not that he never missed talking. There were for instance so many things he wanted to say to those around him. 

And so many vile, vicious and vindictive words he had stored deep inside his mind, waiting to be let out into the world. Words that could break a person down, tear them apart, if used correctly. But should he ever use them as a weapon, he was well aware he risked losing his Guardianship. He could not afford that now, having made his way up the ranks and having so much of his comrades trust and respect. 

So he just tore the letter into shreds whilst North was in the bathroom, chucking the it into the bin. 

Letting out a long, drawn out sigh, he walked out of the room. There was nothing to be said here, even if he would have to eventually speak. 

* * *

Pitch did not take the idea of someone telling him what to do well. The words '_put the past into the past and focus on making the future better'_, did not agree with him. Essentially, he had been told to forget, which only filled him with indignation and anger. How could he forget everything that had happened?! 

So he decided to hide away the letter into the shadows of the closet so that he would not have to look at it. There was little choice but to move on from there though, that was true. If he wanted his abilities back, his freedom back, or really anything, he would have to comply with Death's wishes. He would of course, but he made no promise to actually learn a lesson out of his experiences here. What was there to learn in a school, after all, that would make a person "decent"? As far as he knew, it was school where bratty, entitled, selfish behaviour was promoted, where bullying and a plethora of indecencies were almost far too common place to ignore. 

Frowning, he looked over the details that he was supposed to remember. 

_Name: Kit Avery Blake Parker_

_Age: 24_

_Date of Birth: 13th December, 2000_

_Place of Birth: London, England, United Kingdom. _

Those were simple enough to remember; the basics. Then it came to his past, which was thankfully none too pleasant, because the idea of having to talk about a revoltingly fluffy past filled with unicorns and rainbows made him nauseous. It was a lie even he could not stomach. Instead, he was orphaned at a very young age and sent to live with a man named Gareth. However, he was found out by the social services to not be an appropriate foster parent because of his various addictions and temperament and he was placed in a foster home where he would spend several years until he got adopted at the age eleven by a decent family. 

Being a bright kid, he graduated High School at the age of thirteen, graduating university sooner than most with a PhD in Psychology and English, as well as a minor degree in French and Latin. Pitch stopped reading at this, wondering just how much Mara knew about his real past, or his usual past times. From what he could tell he was a mixture of a nerd and a child-prodigy that never really got anywhere bar teaching, who... from what was written after the education section, happened to lose a wife he had met whilst he was studying and a child... this one unborn though. 

It made his stomach sink and a horrid feeling welled up in his chest, but that soon diminished when he read the next line. 

What in the bloody hell?! 

How in the name of the Man in the Moon would anyone ever believe that he and four of of five Guardians were school mates? Mara had to have been at least a little inebriated to write that part up. 

Scowling he decided to shove the rest of the documents in the closet too, having had enough excitement for the day as it was. 

Chances were he would be called sooner or later downstairs, probably to be forced to socialise and eat something, perhaps even grab whatever books he needed to persuade the world he knew his literature - which he did, thank you very much! - but at this point in time he couldn't be convinced to do much of anything. So he just lay back down on the bed, which by now was thankfully free, as Frost had gone for a scavenger hunt into the kitchen, searching for whatever snacks he could get his hands only, clearly already hungry with the effects of the transformation kicking in, and looked up at the ceiling. 

It would be a very long year. 

Yet, if there was anything he could be grateful for, it was the fact that he was no longer under the Moon's thumb. Or the thumb of any other nemesis he had come across in his long, long existence. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just thought that having Pitch's name stay Pitch would arise suspicion and Kozmotis wasn't exactly any better. 
> 
> Now Kit, Kit is a classical name and it even sort of sounds English, wouldn't you agree? 
> 
> I made him younger, yes, but I figured I could play around with things for a bit and have him be a little different from what people expected. Chronologically though, he is still very much older than the moon itself - so around 4.503 billion years, give or take? Parker I picked because it shared initials with Pitchner (his previous surname from the books), and Avery Blake...? Well, first of all, if he is going to seem posh, he might as well have multiple names. The second reason I will explain later.
> 
> Sanderson is a temperamental ball of sand, which you can clearly see in the movie. I'm not sure we'll be glad to hear what he has to say about some things, but let us see where this goes. Monsnoozie would have been a weird surname that people would pick up on and Monsoon sounds almost like a surname someone might have without being too far from his original surname. That way, if he make a mistake, it would be less suspicious, I think. 
> 
> Bunnymund is not a typical surname, so I looked up surnames in Australia, and what do you know. Burton's a fairly common place surname there, if I am not wrong. 
> 
> I figured Toothiana should stick to the Indian background, so Anand seemed like a good surname to use and Tiana just sounds like a natural, alternate version of her name that is more... human. Plus, I absolutely adore Tiana from Princess and the Frog, so I just had to. 
> 
> Why make them be school mates from university? Well, people enter and exit university at varying ages and many end up studying abroad to also get out of their own country for a bit, so I figured an international university somewhere in the US would give them a shared past that they could employ when it came to explaining why six completely different people live together. If they met at uni, it would make sense for them to have such age gaps and yet still be dorm mates or house mates for a bit. Granted, it means that they will have to at least feign friendliness, but... 
> 
> We'll see how this goes.


	3. A New "Normal"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Guardians are starting to settle in, but Pitch still refuses to let go of his old self and accept this house a home.

Needless to say, things only got more challenging from then onward. 

That first day had finished much sooner than Jack had initially anticipated and for the first time in a long time he had a proper, warm meal. It tasted so alien on his tongue, that his gag reflex was struggling not to kick in, but his body adjusted, not being so dependent on warm climates any more and the delicious taste of steamed carrots and peas teased his tongue. He was so overcome he forgot to tease Pitch about his hesitance to so much as touch the food. 

Not that it mattered of course, for, just moments after Pitch had sat down, he seemed to blanch at the sight of perfectly good food - or at least, it was in the mind's of the winter sprite and the Easter Bunny himself - before pushing his chair back, standing back and quickly excusing himself in a low, muttering voice. Confusion poked at Jack as his eyes followed the tall, slender male out of the dining room, watching him slip out into the hallway and hearing the faintest sound of him climbing the stairs up to the next floor. He could even hear the male settle down on the floor, or he assumed it was Pitch, anyway, as the awkward silence that filled the room in his absence made it all too easy to hear just about every other sound surrounding them. 

Not that Sandy seemed to care - the short man simply continued eating, clearly none too bothered. North did not seem as if he had acknowledged the boogeyman's leave as he continued to shovel food into his mouth obliviously. 

"I am glad that you like my cooking," May commented a little awkwardly, trying to keep a conversation going. 

Well, start a conversation really, as there had barely been one in the first place. He guessed the woman had decided to check upon the absent guest in this house, as he saw her leave the table too, having quickly finished off the last of her meal, before walking off in the direction Pitch had. 

Other than that, there seemed to be nothing to talk about and May's attempt failed to produce more than a couple nods. 

He knew then, taking a jab at Pitch at this point would not be the best idea.

* * *

Sanderson had a semblance of knowledge - an idea - about what might have caused this behaviour in Pitch. Granted, he was an asshat just in general, so there was that, but it had been the food itself that had caused the spirit to react the way he had. This weakness gave the short male a much desired advantage, a leverage. Not to be used immediately, but it meant Pitch was very much just as weak as he had appeared in his caverns, even if the majority of wounds had disappeared from his body, considering he could walk and otherwise move just fine.

To not raise much suspicion, he had stuck around dinner until he had finished and even a little afterwards, still insisting in only using sign language, but otherwise at least communicating with North, if no one else. Jack, Tooth and Bunny had already left by the time he rose from his own seat to search for Pitch's room. It came as a relief to note that Jack was very likely in another room, for the dream weaver doubted that the boy would understand or allow his actions. Walking through the doorway, his eyes landed on the gaunt spirit that was currently sitting on his bed, head in his hands, right up until he heard Sandy take a purposefully heavy step forward, making the floor creak, and him jolt upright. 

Pale, golden-silver eyes narrowed at the Sandman, suspicion and fear evident in them. 

"And here I thought you had lived in the lap of luxury for all those centuries," the shorter male finally spoke, his voice a little raspy from the years of neglect and disuse, but it still retained a chill-factor that perhaps only Pitch could compete with. It had an instant effect on the spirit of fear, causing him to freeze up. 

Now, it was not _quite _true that he had not spoken in centuries. However, it was true that whenever Sanderson Monsnoozie did speak, it was not regarded by anyone who had heard him before as a good thing. The short man smirked lazily, walking over to the bed by the window. 

Gritting his teeth, Pitch refused to be taunted into snapping and remained silent despite the words. Perhaps it was best to ignore him - without his sand whips, he was not even half the threat that he was with them - but it proved difficult as the short man still had words, words that he could use as sadistically as he did whips. 

"But that luxury is gone now, and so are your powers..." he continued, settling on the bed, beside Pitch who dared not move away out of the sheer fear of being called a coward. He would not cower from this man. "With that, your condition deteriorates and the fight within you slowly dies away. You will become more and more pathetic every day, until you will have no choice but to give in. Give up." An arm sneaked around Pitch's waist, feeling bones poking at his fingers even through the fabric of a sweater, an a shirt. "Maybe you should do so now... saves you the humiliation later," Sandy cooed, and laughed, before pulling away. 

Even as he was about to do so, the taller male finally found the strength to try and elbow him, but by that time he was off the bed anyway. 

"What do you say, _Kozmotis_." His former name pierced through his stomach and his chest all at once, the spirit's furious gaze replaced with a haunted expression. "Should I tell them, or will you admit to your weaknesses...?"

He knew, oh, he knew perfectly well that Pitch would allow for neither to happen, being the stubborn, prideful spirit he was. Besides, weakness was one of the not-so few fears that stopped him from reaching his true potential. So when the ravenette shook his head, Sandy was hardly surprised. 

"Oh, you would like me to keep a secret, would you?" 

It was easy to guess the answer, even before it came in the form of a slow, hesitant nod. It was a deal with the devil, they both knew, but there was no way that Sanderson was letting the opportunity pass. 

"Unfortunately for you, I'm going to have to be getting something out of this." There was a pause, before he added, "you could say that after you had shot me with one of your arrows, I am not exactly in a generous mood. But don't worry, it won't cost you much."

* * *

Sitting on Toothiana's bed as the girl was standing on her own two feet, pacing around the room on occasion, Jack found himself wondering why Death would have them all be related like that. It was a pretty big lie, especially considering they had nothing in common, not really, and his friends had not even gone to the university they had supposedly gone to according to her record of their past. 

"I'm thinking she's crazy or something," was his opinion on it. Bunny rolled his eyes at the conclusion. 

"Oh, you don't say..." the former anthropomorphic rabbit drawled, "she threatens our lives, forces us to become humans, turns you into Pitch's cousin and makes us all play her wacky game. If she isn't crazy, no one is." 

Toothiana winced at that list. Truthfully, it probably didn't suggest she was the sanest spirit in the world, but the short blond had heard of worse cases of madness, truth be told. "Maybe we should focus on getting back to our world rather than think of reasons why we believe Death is crazy...?" she suggested. "Maybe she has a point." 

It was unthinkable of course: the very idea they could have done anything anywhere near as wrong as any one of their enemy's crimes, but there had to be a reason why they were all sent here. For her own sanity, she hoped there was. And if she did as she was told, perhaps she would get back to her palace, to her job, to the collections of teeth and her precious mini-fairies. Wrapping her arms around her torso, she looked down at the blue carpet below her feet. Oh, how she already missed Baby Tooth and the others. 

That much was obvious even to Jack, who could see her from the corner of his eyes. It seemed as thought Toothiana was blinking back tears. 

"Hey, Tooth," he spoke softly, "we'll get back somehow." 

Nodding slowly, the woman settled onto the bed beside him, leaning against him. How could she ever get used to all of this? 

"This is our new normal. It's not gonna be forever, but we're just gonna have to get used to it for a bit," he assured her, wrapping his arm around her waist, leaving the the Pooka who stood across the room feel out of place, encouraging him to glower at the couple. 

"Hey, you two lovebirds - you know I'm still here, right?" 

"Jealous, Kangaroo?" Jack retorted, smirking. It prompted even Tooth to giggle a little, as she leaned further into him. 

"Not really. School year starts and you'll be a minor, mate. No cuddling girls that are some 8 years older than you," Aster's response , as he folded his arms against his chest. He smirked right back at Jack, not about to be outsmarted by the kid. 

Toothiana sighed. "Bunny... not now," she murmured, closing her eyes. "I just want a little bit of normality in my life." 

That silenced the male, who couldn't deny her soft-spoken response. Clearly she was tired and homesick - they all were. It hadn't even been a full day yet, and Aster already missed his warn, his walking eggs and the paint spraying flowers that lined the hills of his underground home. Jack probably missed being around Jamie, in Antarctica, or sneaking into North's workshop, and even more so knowing that he would have to stay from it for at least the next year or so. 

Not that anything could be done about that. 

"Alright. But Frostbite over there better sleep in his own room tonight," he eventually gave in, nodding over to Jack, who playfully scowled, as if annoyed. In reality, he didn't mind, not now that his roommate did not have access to his powers or his freaky-weird tricks, rabid horses and mind-reading abilities. 

"Fine," he let out a fake whine, before hugging the female Guardian beside him some more, if only to irritate the hell out of his friend. 

* * *

**August 1st **

The next day was not a comfortable one for any of the new guests in the house. Waking up to find yourself in a body other than your own, in house that is nor your own, with people you only barely know was not something comforting. It did not help that none of them had felt the joy of having a sweet dream of any kind. 

Sanderson's sleep was dreamless, which explained his rather miserable mood at breakfast as it confirmed that lack of magical ability on his part. Besides, the small guy was used to having a good sleep, or at least a nap several times a day. He wound up only sleeping the one time, and not for very long either, but he made up for it after breakfast by taking it out on Pitch.

Not as though the spirit could protest - he had struck a deal with the sand spirit - and so he chose to suck it up instead. He avoided breakfast, which had managed to turn their host into a right mother hen, and had convinced her to try and nag Pitch into eating... to no avail. He just shut himself off. Locked himself in the room he and Jack shared, which promptly pissed the hell out of Jack who needed to get to the bathroom and forced him to use Toothiana and Bunny's bathroom instead. Not something the two spirits were happy about either, as the boy took his sweet time with everything and had left the bathroom as though a bomb had exploded there. 

North seemed to have adapted the quickest, humming as he washed the dishes, which was apparently a rather pleasant surprise for May. Of course, he still would have rather talked things out with Sandy, who had been his friend for the longest time, yet was acting like he barely knew him whenever he would ask him how he was. 

It never really clicked inside his mind that perhaps his old friend had other ways of dealing with his problems and, honestly? The blond male was glad that the Christmas spirit was still as oblivious as always. 

Later that day, May had managed to convince them to learn up the subjects they were going to be teaching in a week's time, or in Jack's case, continuing to learn at a higher level. 

Needless to say, Jack had spent half the day winging about the fact that algebra was the devil's work, and that there was no way the Illuminati was not involved with mathematics. At that point, it was fairly obvious to _everyone _around him that the boy did not take a shine to maths. Nor did he really come to like any of the other subjects he had supposedly picked out. "Come on! How the hell is this fair?!" he exclaimed, tempted to through the mathematics book he had found earlier during the day out the window. "I swear Death is just trying to take a piss right now..."

Across the room from him, Aster scoffed. "If you don't shut it right now, kid, I'm going to shut it for you," he threatened, struggling to focus on the video explaining rugby to amateurs. Which was harder said than done, considering the bright screen did not do any good for his eyes which were unused to any kind of technology. It wasn't like they had any computers or laptops in the warren. 

"Well, at least you get to do the fun stuff," Jack insisted, looking longingly to the tablet in Aster's hands. Having been around Jamie he knew a thing or two about technology and he certainly enjoyed videos better than having to actually read or write anything. "My hands feel like they'll fall off..." 

"Yeah, right."

And that was the end of that civilised discussion, as the two spirits lunged at each other, with Jack about to pin Bunny to the couch he had been sitting on surprisingly. Instead, they were interrupted by a cough coming from the direction of the doorway. 

"Boys..." May warned them as her eyes took in the scene in front of her. "No fighting." 

Sheepishly, Jack pulled away from Bunny, brushing his jeans off, before mumbling an apology to the woman and walking out of the living room. If it hadn't been for the fact that there was a lady standing in the doorway, the Easter spirit would have probably managed to respond with a smarmy comment, but instead he wisely chose to keep his mouth shut. 

* * *

That had only been the first lesson that they would be taught. 

Next would be keeping their room clean... which Jack absolutely hated, and would have rather had his room "creatively ordered" as he had put it, much to his roommate's displeasure who spent the day having to clean the room for him just so that he would not have to look at the mess. Which only led to an argument, and very nearly a fight. 

"I do not care whether you want to live in a pig sty or not, but I refuse to share a pig sty with you," Frost," Pitch hissed at him, before walking off once more to wherever the heck he kept disappearing to. 

Jack, not giving a damn, simply lay back down on his bed, spreading himself lazily across the whole thing. Well, the taller spirit ought to have been glad he didn't take up _his _bed instead.

* * *

On a more interesting note, Sanderson had finally begun speaking. And though there was something off about his voice, it was nice to know that he could. He even seemed to have a more pleasant demeanour about him, without that aura of anger, jealousy and hatred floating around him in toxic circles. 

"So, how are you settling in, Jack?" the male had asked first, surprising the boy at the time so much he leapt three feet into the air, as he hadn't seen that coming. Then again, it was not like he had eyes at the back of his head, or had been paying enough attention to hear the short man walk up behind him. 

"Well... it isn't the North Pole, but this place definitely isn't bad," he shrugged when he finally got used to the idea of Sandy talking. "How about you?" 

Mimicking his body language, Sandy shrugged too. "Well enough, I guess," he responded, before averting his gaze to something other than Jack, but whatever it was he had been looking at, he looked away from it before the boy could check it out himself. 

With that, he had turned around and walked off, leaving the brunette standing there. "Weird..." Jack muttered under his breath, before heading upstairs and seeing how he could annoy Pitch further. 

* * *

On Toothiana's part, she had settled in fairly well, and with a new-found determination to get back to her fairies, she immediately picked up several biology-related books that she found on the shelves in the living room and began reading through them voraciously. Bunny, who watched her from the opposite side of the bedroom, was about to comment on it, when he heard something coming from the outside. 

Barking. He tensed up, shuddering inwardly. 

Tooth looked up and chuckled. "You do know that the dog isn't here? It's not inside the house and it won't attack you, because you aren't a rabbit any more," she reassured him, seeing the terrified expression on his face. 

Sighing, the other Guardian loosened up, before insisting quietly, "you don't know that." 

No, she probably did not and could not, because she had never met that dog. Still, they both could, it wasn't like they were prisoners in this house, right? 

"Well, then, let's find out," she encouraged, as she stood up from her bed and walked out of the room in search for their host. Aster followed suit, fixing up the collar of his shirt a little as his nerves got to him. Not that he was about to back down, of course, which was exactly why he casually stepped out of the room. 

With May's permission, they finally were allowed to breathe in the fresh air and look past the hedge over to the neighbour's garden. When their eyes landed on the surprisingly short, fluffy creature on the other side, it wagged it's tail playfully, large, chocolate brown eyes shining. "Awe... isn't he such an adorable, sweet little thing..." Toothiana couldn't stop cooing at the dog. Her roommate was not so easily swayed. 

* * *

North was glad to note that there was a smile on Sandy's face, preferring it to one of his more miserable expressions. He had spent the day sketching out designs - something that he did very poorly in actual fact, as he mostly carved out his creations from his mind, his own imagination - liking to keep himself occupied, but getting frustrated when the pencil did not seem to cooperate with what he had in mind. 

Sandy seemed to laugh at that, but it was better seeing his friend laugh that try to bottle up his anger and so North joined in. 

It probably did not help that there were crumbs scattered across the paper, courtesy of him eating half a dozen cookies in the last ten minutes that he had spent sketching, thanks to the brilliant baking skills of May. "Maybe if you loosened your grip a little...?" the short man suggested. 

He did exactly that. In the end, he had only proved Sanderson's hypothesis right. 

* * *

This time, Pitch had not even bothered to sneak his skinny ass downstairs, instead taking the opportunity to be alone in the bedroom he shared with Jack. Granted, May did make the attempt to call him down, but eventually decided to go back to where the rest of the spirits were. "He'd better have eaten something for lunch," she murmured, before glancing around the table, and forcing a smile. 

Generally, the spirit of Fun could see the difference between a forced and a genuine smile. This time was no different, but he wasn't about to ruin the mood at the table. 

"I hope there won't be any more fights in this house," May resumed talking after a while, shooting a stern look to Bunny and Jack, whom simultaneously gulped, nodding quickly to avoid her silent wrath. "Whether you like each other, or you have issues with each other, no violence will be allowed under my roof. You can talk things out instead... like adults."

From there, she made the attempt to switch the conversation to one about what each person did during their day, but it hardly gained many responses. Thankfully, Jack did manage to ask a sensible question to help with the awkward silence.

"So... how did you get this house?" Jack asked. Jamie had a much smaller house, with only three rooms, whereas this one totalled to six, plus a very spacious living room, dining room, kitchen... It was a fairly big house. And, from what he understood, large homes cost a lot of money. A lot of money that an older, single woman usually wouldn't have or be able to make. Or an older, single person of any gender, really. 

"I inherited it," she casually responded. "It's a family house - renovating it cost a bit, but not more than I could afford. I'm a doctor, though, so you could say I get paid more than the average person, hence why I can afford to fix up more than an average house. Good thing too, because there was no way that I could let this house get forgotten and left to fall apart with age. I mean, I did grow up here." 

North seemed to pay attention at the mention of family, and Jack nodded, understanding somewhat. So the house had sentimental value and had belonged to her parents. That made sense. 

"Oh, and... I will be working again starting tomorrow, so I won't be around much," she informed them after a while. "My holiday's already over," the woman added with a small laugh. "Not that I mind. Work is good. Keeps me busy. Just, don't start another world war over here whilst I'm away. I don't want to come back from an eight hour shift to come back to deal with the casualties."

"Sure thing, doc," Jack just couldn't resist, grinning. 

At that, the atmosphere started to lighten up, and the conversations finally began. 

* * *

Pitch had finally gotten rid of Frost for the day, and had opted to read over some of the books he had picked up from the living room. He had a feeling they were part of the list of books teachers had been advised to use to teach students the course, anyway. Besides, it was one of the few things he could still enjoy in spite of his current predicament and the hobby of reading had been with him since the "Golden Ages". 

Not like he could enjoy sitting at a table with Jack there anyway. Never mind eating. It had not been just days since he had last touched normal, human food. It had been years, decades even. As a result, his digestive system would start to work against him at the very thought of food, nausea and bile rising. 

Pitiable though it may have been, he never had the chance to remedy that. Five hundred years spent mostly in his lair, unable to afford the basic luxury of food that the Guardians overindulged in so often did that to a spirit. So even if he could handle sitting at a table and eating, he would still be seething at the Guardians, envious, angry, hating their very guts for every bit of pain they had caused over the years. With them around, he could not so much as poke his head out of his lair, could not take a single slice of bread, or drop of tea. If fortune enough, someone would accidentally drop a book by his lair, or a toy, a tool, or something that he would be tempted to immediately pinch and stash away for himself. Anything he could, he took. 

Even when he managed to sneak out of his lair for a few minutes, he rarely found himself wanting food anymore, being only able to picture his enemies stuffing their faces, which in itself made him feel sick to his stomach. 

Growling lowly when the chatter coming from inside the living room was starting to get to him, he snapped the book shut, giving up on the idea of reading. It was not like it had been an interesting read. Honestly, he had no idea why anyone would read about a twelve year old and an eighteen year old killing themselves over something as silly and juvenile as love. 

Oh, yes, of course, and then there was the whole idea of a twelve year old _falling in love _with a bloody eighteen year old. Scrunching up his nose in disgust, the male decided that he would at the nearest opportunity put that book back where it belonged, refusing to read it, even if he'd ought to read the material. He had almost forgotten how much he disliked Shakespeare despite the fact that every other literature student swooned over him and his plays.

Glancing over to the pile of plays and novels he was supposed to get through over the summer, he knew reading them wouldn't be the problem. Enjoying them, on the other hand, might become one. 

With the exception of "Pride and Prejudice," "Great Expectations," "Animal Farm" and "1964", he had not read the other novels in the pile, and out of those, it was oddly enough "Great Expectations" and "Pride and Prejudice" that were the easiest to stomach. Of course, he did not want to waste time, so instead he delved in to "King Lear" as he hadn't read that play, knowing he would probably come out hating it, but also acknowledging the fact that he would hate himself more if his unwillingness to read a play had left him stuck inside a world he really did not want to be in. 

In other words, he had to "suck it up", so to speak. 

Like he had always done in the past. 

Unfortunately, his reading was rudely interrupted, even before he managed to scan over the first page, as the door opened and a familiar, now brown haired spirit popped inside the room. "Guess who's back," Frost exclaimed in a teasing tone of voice as he decided to lounge on Pitch's bed once more, annoyingly deciding to lean against the taller man's shoulder. The boogeyman stifled a groan, pinching the bridge of his nose with one hand and then elbowing Jack. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry. I do not plan on writing out a chapter for every day they spend before school starts. In fact, I think I will skip a few days at least in the next chapter to get things going. 
> 
> With regards to Pitch's preferences with regards to books won't be terribly different from mine, because it is easier to make it seem like a character actually knows a book if you yourself know the book. One thing I have to say though, the chosen books in this chapter aren't really ones I have read. "1964", by George Orwell was something a friend of mine had read once as part of her learning and she found it... not very exciting as well as incredibly confusing. "Animal Farm", by Charles Dickens, I'd only read extracts from and based on the rather uninspiring quotes, but the fact that it was a novel used commonly with the younger high school / middle schoolers made it seem like a book I should add to the list. "Pride and Prejudice," written by Jane Austen, made for a good movie, both the normal and the zombie version of the book, but I had never read the entirety of the novel. I have read a small part as part of my English course, but that was a while back. When it comes to "Great Expectations" by Charles Dickens, it was an oft-praised book in the secondary school I had gone to and there is a poem by Carol Anne Duffy based on one of it's characters, fittingly called "Havisham." It was very popular with my classmates... but that might have been because of the dirtier interpretation of the lines in the poem. Plus, I thought Jack might appreciate an opening to tease Pitch some more - sorry, Pitch - by choosing "Great Expectations" and "Pride and Prejudice"... books more popular with females from my experience. Not to discourage any males from reading it, of course.


	4. Pushing Through and Falling Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The stubborn refusal of help has finally taken it's toll on a more human Pitch, which leads to a more motherly side surfacing in Toothiana. 
> 
> Sandy is not happy with the outcome of things and Jack takes things a little too far at one point. 
> 
> A little bit of healing, manipulation and bonding ensues.

**August 10th, 2025**

Jack had finally decided to catch up with his studies. Not that he terribly wanted to, but after spending much time arguing about whether he should or shouldn't bother with the academic side to his punishment with Aster, he decided that his only choice was to push through it. That did not mean that trying to understand mathematics wasn't hell. For all the books he had to aid him, the numbers all looked more like Japanese letters, and Jack wasn't exactly multilingual. He only ever spoke in one language and had barely ever thought it might be useful to learn another one. Maths seemed very much like a foreign language, and like all foreign languages, the teenager couldn't be bothered learning them. 

Besides, there was little else he could do. Pitch had been sneaking out every now and again, and then sneaking back into the room, only to lock himself inside. Not like he even had the chance to talk to the dark spirit, so it wasn't like Death would, or could, blame him for not trying to make up with his enemy. 

"What do you think is up with Pitch?" Jack asked, getting bored of cramming his head with numbers and random letters, before looking up towards the tanned male that sat across from him. 

Aster shrugged. "Beats me," he answered. "Whatever he is up to, there is no way he can use it to start another dark ages, and that is all that is important at this point." 

Of course he wouldn't get far asking the Pooka for his opinion. Jack huffed in frustration. "Yeah, but it's starting to get pretty inconvenient. I mean, I can't even shower half the time, because that guy decides to lock himself in the bedroom, as if it was his own lair," he whined for a bit, prompting a snort from the other male. 

"Since when was anything that Pitch did convenient?" 

"Guess you're right..." Jack gave up, though deep inside he felt something was off. Maybe not in his belly, but he could feel something unsettling in the room. And in his mind. Something was whispering to him faintly, telling him that there was more to this than just the spirit of Fear being his unhelpful self. 

It was then that he saw something move in the hallway. Pitch! 

Oh, no no no no no. That bugger wasn't getting anywhere until he finally let Jack inside the damn room and told him what the hell was going on! Leaping to his feet, he darted off after the taller spirit, spotting him and pinning him to the nearest wall. 

"Alright, that's it - tell me why the fuck am I having to deal with your edgy, hermit self and suffering through you locking me out the room for no reason," he pressed, going straight to the point as he locked his ice blue eyes with the other spirit's golden-silver ones. He could see the man tense in his grasp, as if shocked and unsettled. By him? The spirit of Fun? Regardless, Pitch looked like he was about to have a heart attack. 

When his captive finally calmed down a little, his shock twisted into irritation and anger, as his lips curled into a snarl. "What- why the hell- get off me, Frost!" 

Gripping his collar, Jack pulled him in closer. "No. Not until you tell me what is wrong with you." 

"I should be asking the same thing," Pitch growled, struggling. Strangely enough, his pushes and kicks felt like almost nothing... although as thin as he was, it really wasn't too surprising. Despite looking slender, Jack had chosen to use his free time here to run around the block, work out and exercise to ease away the boredom. He had muscle. The spirit opposite him seemed to - whenever he was around to see what his roommate was up to - do two things: refuse to eat and spend all his time reading. 

It was beginning to show, and the younger spirit was only now starting to realise how bad it had gotten. Cracked nails, damaged hair, deathly pale skin and bones sticking out. There was something about that image that pissed Jack off. "You know... You should be grateful that someone gives enough of a fuck about you to try to feed you, give you shelter and books. You should be grateful you aren't dead. But here you are, refusing to care enough to even look after yourself, let along _try _to be less of an ass. 

And it's kind of pathetic. 

All of us here are trying - everyone but you. All you do is wallow in self-pity and expect a long and fancy apology for all the dickish things that _you _have caused!" Jack snapped at him, causing the other Guardians to notice and walk over to Pitch. 

"Jack..."

Even as the dark haired male could felt too stunned and shocked, angry and frustrated to respond, Toothiana stepped up behind him, placing a hand on the boy's shoulder and gently pulling him away. "He isn't worth it, Jack... He isn't worth doing anything..." she whispered, with a concerned gaze. 

Realising his mistake - the fact that he had disobeyed May's rule about fighting - Jack slowly nodded and released Pitch, pulling away and turning to the female spirit. "You're right," he sighed and shook his head, despite his own irritation still dwelling deep inside of him. "He isn't worth anything," he couldn't help a biting remark as he walked away from the scene, heading upstairs to check if the room had not been unlocked already. 

* * *

Pitch was breathing shallowly, still leaning against the wall. It had been ages since a fight had exhausted him this much, especially such a short one. It did not help that he had already been in pain and Jack's rough handling hardly did him any better. As his legs shook, he found himself unable to stand and it was as if Jack's words were pushing him down to the ground. 

_'...isn't worth anything...'_

_'All you do is wallow in self-pity and expect a long, fancy apology for all the dickish things you have caused!'_

The spirit was tempted to shout, scream, tell the Frost brat how ignorant, selfish and reckless he was. He wanted to kick him and cause him pain, to let him feel every bit of pain that was coursing through him and biting at every part of his body right now. Neither of which he could find himself capable of doing. Instead, he felt nauseous. Dizzy. Weak. Ten days not eating did little to a spirit. It wasn't the same for a human. 

As his vision blurred, the vanished altogether, he could hear a sound of panic coming from somewhere and then he completely slipped out of consciousness. Well, not before hitting something fairly solid. 

Part of him wondered if Sanderson had expected so much and had tailored his expectations of what Pitch would have to pay him back with to the curious nature of the Guardians. Should they try to figure out what was wrong, they would find nothing on the surface. Not on the revealed skin and not on most of the concealed skin either. That was at the start of their agreement. Unconscious Pitch didn't wonder anything. 

Two minutes later he had come to, with a skull-splitting headache digging into the back of his head, and two pairs of violet eyes staring at him intently. He was almost tempted to ask why she hadn't took the opportunity and dived into his mouth to poke and prod his teeth, but his answer came before he could as much as open his mouth to do so. 

"Just in case you are wondering, no I am not going to preform a dentist check up on you - I already have." 

Well, that was assuring. The male spirit shuddered, leaning back against something soft. Had he been moved. He narrowed his eyes at Toothiana, as if about to interrogate her. 

"And it was actually Bunny who brought you here - I couldn't quite lift you up myself, so I asked him to do it myself," she added, as if she were psychic. From the couch across him, Aster scowled, as if he weren't any more pleased with that than Pitch was. 

"You fainted, Pitch..." she informed him. 

'Oh, don't say. I figured I just subconsciously decided to take a two-minute nap in the hallway,' he thought, but didn't dare say out loud. She could still punch out a couple more teeth, if he used his sass a little too much against her. 

Not seeming to mind the livid expression on his face, she remained in front of him, speaking. "You should rest. And definitely eat. From now on, you will not be squirming out of dinner."

"You are not my _mother_, Toothiana; I suggest you do not act like one," he finally responded, though his voice was faint. He sat up from his bed, only to be gently pushed laid back down, finding himself easily overpowered by the female spirit. Damned woman. 

"Not my fault that you constantly act like you could use one." She shook her head. "And if you continue to treat your situation like a child would, then I definitely will continue to mother you until you learn otherwise." Somehow, the woman had managed to sound surprisingly threatening when she had said that. He did not dare try to sit up after that. 

* * *

Jack was lounging on his bed, _finally _having been able to get inside his room and not yet willing to be active enough to even take a shower. Well, lounging. That would imply that he was relaxing. No, it was not relaxation. 

There was something weighing him down far too much for that. Perhaps it was guilt, but for some reason, apologising did not quite feel right. Something nagged at him, telling him he was in the right and yet it wasn't exactly in his nature to randomly pin people to walls and act violently. Recklessly, yes, but he had gotten past fighting after he had become a Guardian. He _had _improved since then. So, why was it so difficult to keep his cool, to not attack when Pitch was around? 

It was not like it had been his fairies who had been kidnapped. Toothiana was the one that had temporarily lost her mini-fairies. Yet, she was also the one he had seen help Pitch first, calling Aster to help her lift him fully well knowing that the Pooka hated the guy. 

Perhaps he was overreacting. Especially since it would not help anything anyway; attacking a fellow spirit in a house he was not supposed to fight with anyone. Tensing, he wondered if the boogeyman would snitch. If he would tell anything to May. The idea of May being disappointed in him was gut-wrenching and awful. It made him feel sick. To fail someone who had been nice to him and who had so few rules, by breaking one of those few rules. It was... horrible. It made him someone horrible. 

Like Pitch had said. 

He'd made a mess of everything. 

There was a knock at the door. Turning around, he caught a glimpse of Sanderson standing in the doorway, watching him in concern. "Are you alright?" 

"I screwed up..." Jack shook his head, and muttered in response. "I shouldn't have attacked Pitch..." 

"Whatever reason you had, Jack, Pitch had any pain he got coming," the short male insisted, in a soft, but still slightly combative tone. "There's no need for you to feel guilty about that. Besides, you might have even done the spirit a favour." 

Jack frowned. "I don't understand..." 

"It's obvious that out of all of us, Pitch needed to learn the most. He is the most stubborn of us, and clearly, words won't always work," Sandy assured him. "You did what you had to in order to get it into his head that he is a bastard. That _he _needs to change. Not you. You should never change, Jack." 

Maybe he was right. 

* * *

**August 13th, 2025**

Toothiana had picked up the hobby of cooking over the past few days. Having started by helping out May, she had found her way around the kitchen easily and with a cookbook in hand, it was not so difficult for her to cook up a meal without anyone's assistance. Besides, she did recall cooking at a few rare times during her life as a spirit, when life was quiet enough for her to have the time to do so. 

Now she was accompanied by Pitch and although she never left him stirring the pot, or cutting any meat up for too long, because those few times he had been near it, he'd turned a sickly pale colour, eliciting quite a bit of worry inside of her, she did have him help out a bit to keep him from sneaking out. Granted, it had him appearing even more aloof than usual, and she found herself warning the man _several _times to be careful how he used that knife as he'd been millimetres away from cutting himself of numerous occasions, but at least she could better keep an eye on him. 

Besides, the two of them were supposed to learn how to get on with each other, right? What other reason would Death have for forcing the six of them to live under the one roof? What other brand of madness would convince her it was a bright idea? 

"I am not going to force you to eat an adult portion of a cooked meal," the Guardian of memories assured him as she walked past him, making sure once more that as he was cutting up the carrots, he did not lose his focus. It was a good thing too, that she had chosen Pitch to help him out and not Aster, otherwise there would have been no carrots left to put in the soup. 

He still had not eaten anything, if you did not count the stew that she had tried to force-feed him - as she was at the end of her wits - a couple days earlier, which then ended up on the floor, along with a puddle of bile. Sickening, and pitiful, but it also told her that she would probably have to take a different plan of action. 

So instead, she had placed some unsalted crackers on the kitchen counter besides Pitch, returning to do her own bit in the cooking. 

"You are going to have to eat something though," she added, as the taller spirit turned around, looking at the crackers in confusion as if he suspected at first that she wanted him to cut them up too. Toothiana herself wasn't so terribly sure crackers belonged into a soup, and so she simply had to laugh at the male's expression. "Those aren't for the soup. They are for you." 

Not seeing how anything he might have done could have been considered amusing, he scowled, encouraging another laugh out of the female. 

"And don't you go around making that face. It's for your own good, so you will try to eat at least one of those crackers." 

He did it too, eventually giving in when she threatened to feed him those crackers too. It would be a slow process, she could only bet, especially considering the fact that he had not eaten in a long time, but he was lucky that at least he did not end up vomiting up the cracker too. Even if it took him two centuries to eat. More like twenty minutes, but it felt more like twenty centuries as Toothiana stood there, watching him with her hands on her hips, waiting for him to swallow down the last of the cracker. With a little luck he would mostly recover from his current state by the end of the holidays. 

* * *

Sandy's mood had strangely dropped once more. 

North had noticed this and was about to ask him at one point when both of them were studying their respective subjects in their own rooms, when he walked off once more, muttering something about having one thing or another to deal with, without explaining it any more then that and then disappearing downstairs. He did not dwell on it much though, instead choosing to walk downstairs, the scent of food drifting up the stairs and into the room which was empty of anything to munch on calling him. 

Heading into the kitchen, he raised an eyebrow when he saw Pitch and Toothiana working together. "Well, this is unexpected," he explained. 

Taken by surprise, her kitchen assistant had managed to cut himself after all, but it didn't seem to bother him quite as much as it did the cook herself. Rather, he just glowered at North, impatient for him to leave. There was something discomforting about his presence and even the Russian himself knew there must have been. 

"Yes, well, I needed to make sure he would eat," Toothiana explained as she grabbed some bandages from the cupboard, which led to the struggle of trying to place said bandage over the sliced hand, whilst Pitch heavily protested, claiming he was fine and once more scoffing at her motherly behaviour. 

"It is hardly more than a small scratch, Toothiana," he insisted under his breath. 

"Yes, well, you're human now, so small scratch or big scratch you'll be healing it the human way," she retorted, grasping his wrist. "Now give me your hand, you stubborn idiot." 

North laughed, and, not thinking, he walked up behind Pitch. "You should listen to the lady, Pitch. She knows what she is doing," he suggested, before patting his shoulder harder than he had intended, causing the lankier spirit to wince and elbow him simultaneously, suddenly lashing out. 

Seeing the wild and panicked looked in his pale face, North took a step back, shaking his head. "It was not my intention to scare you," he simply said and then walked off, grabbing some cookies out of the jar on the kitchen counter, causing Toothiana to scold him. 

"And I swear North," the woman said as she bandaged the darker spirit's hand whilst she watched the other male leave, "if you get cavities, you will get a talking to from me." 

At this, Pitch relaxed, having the scene where Toothiana scolds the spirit of Wonder to look forward to. Once Toothiana had bandaged his hand, she put away the rest of the bandages and then gestured for him to eat the rest of the crackers. 

* * *

The healing process had started working its magic for some time now, and finally Pitch could feel somewhat relaxed, without having to snoop around the house, looking for the basement that only he, May and Sanderson seemed to know about - and that was assuming May knew about this part of her house... but she most likely did - when things started turning pear-shaped* again. 

Entering the room he had shared with Jack, to hear the shower on, he assumed that Jack had took up the shower. That was fair enough, he could wait. As he walked up to his half of the room though, he noted that there had been a note, a folded piece of paper lying on the floor. Picking it up, he allowed curiosity to get the best of him. Unfolding it, he found his heart stop for a second as his eyes landed on the writing. 

_What would Frost think of you if he knew? _

_What would the others think of you if they knew? _

It was not hard to guess whose handwriting that was, or what the message had meant. Who it had been meant for. Folding it up again only several minutes later when he heard the shower being switched off, he hid it in his shirt pocket, feigning nonchalance as he picked up a copy of "The Handmaid's Tale" by Margaret Atwood, and walked over to his bed, beginning to read the dystopian novel. 

At least the brunette he shared his room with would probably notice something was off. It was not as if though he had read this novel before, so Jack would likely just assume he was swotting, or just being his usual "antisocial" self. 

Granted, that was not the correct term, but it was Jack - a seventeen-going-on-to-three-hundred-and-eighteen year old kid who did not have a way with words or an understanding of most words. If the definition of antisocial flew over his head, Pitch wouldn't be terribly surprised or particularly offended. There were worse things to be called, in his mind. 

"You know, if you're going to read a book, you might as well read a good book," Jack exclaimed as he walked into the room, spotting the boogeyman. "Or a good comic." 

Pitch rolled his eyes. "I do not read picture books, Frost," he remarked.

"They're not picture books." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *turning/going pear-shaped - basically means it's going badly. 
> 
> I have actually read "A Handmaid's Tale" and though it is only my opinion, I would not exactly recommend it as something to read for leisure. 
> 
> It is not that Pitch does not appreciate graphic novels, he just feels too much spite towards Jack to admit they might share at least something in common.

**Author's Note:**

> Pitch does not need the shifting potion because he can shape-shift. It is not very effective against a larger number of opponents anyway, hence why he chose an army of nightmares over one form that does not have full access to the whole range of his powers. His powers over time have become tied to the form he uses most - that is the one the audience sees. 
> 
> There are comics out there that are accepted by some as canon or a head canon of it's own in the least, that explain that Pitch chose the form he took - a more human and less beastly form than some spirits - possibly subconsciously. 
> 
> He needed to be convinced to shift though, as only he can get his own body to shift. Without Pitch's compliance, the best way to sort the problem out was a mind-altering drug that would temporarily brainwash him into thinking he wants to wish. However, that was not the only way to go about the issue.


End file.
